If you were the editor-in-chief of a much-anticipated magazine catering to the art world elite, what would you put on the cover? Perhaps a freestanding Richard Serra sculpture, its thundering sheets of metal protruding from a summer pasture. Or would you whet the appetites of art dealers with the drama of Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro?
Dasha Zhukova, who WSJ Magazine calls “the contemporary-art impresario,” decided on three covers — one deemed too inappropriate to stay on the shelves of British newsagent WHSmith. Superstar artist Damien Hirst tattooed the vagina of illustrator Shauna Taylor with his signature butterfly, and this was later photographed for the cover of Garage Magazine. A peel-away sticker of a neon green butterfly covers the spot as a small act of courtesy.
A designer tattoo on a vagina is probably any parent’s worst nightmare. However, 23-year-old Shauna, the model for the Garage cover, seemed to have no problem with it: “I love it. I would have been stupid not to be part of this project,” she said. “I have a piece of art on my vagina. Not one single person can ever say they gave birth through a Damien Hirst piece of art. I can.”
Our generation, especially in the Western world, defines tattoos as body art. It is the meaning and aesthetic value behind the inked image, number and words that numb the painful process of getting one. Like a scar or bruise, a tattoo has a story to tell. It is part of the owner’s identity, a way to express oneself visually. But, what would the parents say?
Laura and Margot,* who work at the circulation desk at the Rockefeller Library, are well over the age of the typical Brown undergrad. Laura looks to be in her mid 30s and reflects on the change of the tattoo culture. “During my lifetime, it’s become something not mainstream to something very common.” Margot, who is in her early 60s, adjusted her glasses in agreement. “In my time, sailors and mostly men in the armed services were the ones with tattoos. A woman, to get them, was very unusual. But there was a very popular song called ‘Lydia the Tattooed Lady’.”
This song (watch the video here) appeared in the Marx Brothers’ film At the Circus. Groucho Marx sings, “She was the most glorious creature under the sun. / Guiess. Dubarry. Garbo. / Rolled into one.” Despite the jolly la-la-las and a man swinging from a chandelier, the extract from the film only emphasizes the controversial yet alluring aspect of the tattoo. If it were not for her tattoos, Groucho Marx and his gang of revellers would not be commemorating Lydia.
For journalist and nonfiction writer Susan Resnick—currently a visiting lecturer in English at Brown — tattoos are “an indication of immaturity, a craving for attention and the need to follow the crowd.” For anyone with a tattoo, this comment may sound harsh. But think about teenagers and college students. Is it not natural for us to link arms at any sign of familiarity, of connection? Resnick also believes “such traits are normal for college students” and asks, “do you really want to advertise such weaknesses for the rest of your life?” Margot gives students an important reality check: “I don’t mind a few tattoos, but when I see lots on many young people, I want to ask them, when you’re 30 and trying to get a job, what will you do?”
While I was sitting down with Arlando, whose artwork is featured in this issue’s Photo Blog, we spotted a college student covered in tattoos walking down Thayer Street. He had a sense of withdrawn-chic to him — an air of seriously cool. A spider web enveloped his right elbow, and all I could think was, “I wonder what the story behind that tattoo could be…” A tattoo is painful, memorable, and in cases like this, truly beautiful. Despite its many connotations, the combination of shock and quiet elegance, I believe, transcends its (at times) invasive nature.
* These names have been changed for confidentiality.